The Boleyn Misfortunes Retold in First Person
by RvnCat9193
Summary: This is my start in the novel that I'm in the midst of writing, it's about all of the Boleyn's first person recount of all of the false accusations they've been accused of; and their perspective throughout the unjust trials.
1. Chapter 1: Introduction

The Boleyn Misgivings Retold

The Boleyn Misgivings Retold. A Novel Work in Process

By Kara DiDomizio. 4-8-08

Please note, the characters involved throughout the story are all historical – not fictitious, though the storyline and my first person telling of it are.

**George Boleyn's Perspective - Introduction**

"

As I try to carve my initials into the dark and dreary tower walls, awaiting my execution, I pray to God that somebody comes across my story. My story is what I've written down in the past few hours – and experienced over the course of some time prior to this foretelling - for literate people to decipher and understand as a whole, and out of the whole complexity and innocence, for you as the audience to understand. I have been accused of treason against the great, though uninsightful King Henry VIII; and there are not many charges that are found to be true. The one sin that I will confess to is pressuring my dearly beloved sister, Anne, to elope with the King and have the prospects of raising the Boleyn family beyond their wildest dreams. I was ambitious, young, despite my youthfulness having faded away many years prior; I have remained the same. I have stayed true to myself, something that is shone very little in this greedy and nonchalant court full of deceptive liars and a king that turns on somebody even after loving and having grown a fondness for. I was once, too, a favorite of the king - though it would be too much unlikely presumption to say that the court did as they never had an ounce of feeling or regret for their shameless deportation of Catalina of Aragon, also known as Katherine around these parts. Never trust monarchy, or a court, never trust people in such high positions of power; their backs will turn and shamelessly about face as often as thou desires and as long as their greed is still just as aplenty.

I am not incestuous, I am not a homosexual, I deny all of those false accusations against me. I have remained as perfectly loyal as one could be to my embarrassing monster of a wife, the person who provided all the hard evidence against me and is for sure going to rot in hell with all the other conspirators that have their heads along the entrance of the Traitor's Gate. I have also remained as loyal a subject as one can be to the King, whoever, who has not allowed me to plead innocent under any circumstances. My head shall not be found anywhere other than the executioner's block, a harsh ending to a what was to become lively and adventurous life in store for my beloved sisters and I. Court life is not for one for all, or all for one.

It's a shameful being, being where I am because of people that I had once entrusted with many well kept secrets. I realize hypocrisy is a sin that I have committed, as both Anne and Mary have had to pay the price in some form or another because of my selfish ambitions and prospects inspired by my Uncle and myself - Anne's fate is inevitably to end up as mine has; their history and their powers, titles all stripped and gone to waste as their bodies will be thrown into a dirty and unidentified grave. It's a shameful fate, deprived of any long lived happiness. However, I am not asking for pity. I am not asking for sympathy or anything other than for you to see the innocence.

Her fate is likely in being the same as mine, the price to pay being the...scaffold. I try to imagine what it's like having my head cushioned on the executioner's block and as the axe stroke finally takes all my pain away. Though in some instances, it's taken more than one stroke to kill a man – or woman – for execution, the King is not gender blind. Mine shall not be in privy as Anne's will be admitted to be, according to the persons - including my uncle- who have condemned myself and others of such. Tommy Cromwell isn't getting the worst of it, and that's a shame, as he has been the person already setting out to find his king a faithful and heralding sort of wife. If you are to accuse women with honest, and open minds, with not a desire in their minds of men that could be nearly their senior to be a witch; you are to be resulting in the undoing of many a female.

Please hear me out on what I say, believe me when I say that Anne Boleyn was never the whore she was made out to be. And her poor, helpless two year old daughter shall not be known as a bastard, but someday; she will become the greatest and most beautiful eyed Queen of England known to man. I foresee it.

Let me tell you my story, please hear me out, before I go to a merciless court and plead for a trial to prevent my inevitable death. "


	2. Chapter 2: George Boleyn

The Boleyn Misfortunes: Chapter 2

**The Boleyn Misfortunes: Chapter 2**

Early spring 1536.

_George Boleyn:_

_Dear Holy Father, please let me escape with my head in a court full of endangerment, and thus the name and inheritance of the family be continued. I shall not want to see my own sister, as well as myself, put into anymore danger. It's risky business, the life of a courtier, and I acknowledge that._ At one time, many years ago, before I was married to the witch of a wife I found in Jane Parker; things had been bliss. Anne had been in the French Court with her own sister Mary, and things had been ongoing and peaceful for our very aristocratic family, until the day when Uncle Howard devised a plan.

Uncle Howard decided that he was going to put the fate of the family onto our hands, the dynamic threesome that we were: Anne, Mary, and I. I daresay the picture of us three younger and bouncing about carelessly had to have been an extremely humorous sight, though at the same time; it would have charmed any properly seeing man into jealousy once he admired the beautiful caricatures in my beloved sisters. In that sense – things haven't much changed, if so, hardly at all – it was such following: Anne, the playful and outgoing one, the ambitious, and Mary, the honesty and sweet and confiding girl that I'd learnt to befriend before lift my britches, and I as the brother; enjoyed playing along with their silly games and tricks that they've picked up in the French courts. They were both expert flirts from a young age, and I daresay, that I expected them to go farther with the ambition in either of them than many other of the girls we lived around. I never would have thought that the throne of England and the favor of the impotent King Henry would later be on one of their hands.

When I'd had a drink or two more, I'd even confide some of the nasty tricks that a few of the people in the whorehouses had informed me of, back in the days when I wasn't afraid to even step out of my bed out of fear that my promiscuous wife would be on the prowl. Things had been a charmed life up until our greedy Uncle Howard, who somehow was able to always contrive reluctant fear and bitter admiration out of all of us. Our parents raised us as if it was their duty to obey and live out our lives under his command, and in that matter, we never failed to succeed once. It was his ambition that was passed onto Anne's, and possibly even I, who have at times, had my moments where I wanted nothing more than to climb status much higher than my dear friend Francis Weston. In a way, they had always been grooming us for the courtier life that was to be in our near future.

Mary, had her eyes set on the Golden Prince from the first time that she saw him, hunting on the grounds that belonged to some family friends acquainted to the Great King, who seemed to attract just as many women as he did deer. Little did we know that she wouldn't be the only mistress to the King, there were many. Bessie Blount, the rumored mother of Henry's illegitimate child Henry Fitzroy, and most recently; our family born rival Jane Seymour – whom Anne has been wailing like a banshee about often. After all, our family has driven it into her head that if she does nothing more than enchant him, their family will never, ever rise to higher standards. She must always keep the King's eyes only on her, and apparently, that's one mission that she's failed on.

Anne hasn't had as much patience as Uncle would want these days, after all, he had only been the Golden Prince…or so proclaimed, well. Lets it put this way - That was before he had been bloated from the amount of food he began to eat from time Anne caught his fancy onward, as Catherine of Aragon would never have allowed him to bloat so terribly, and possibly even endanger his health and the health of whatever children he may have. Though, in those days, he didn't seem to care about anything much more than having a son, something he had been becoming increasingly obsessive about. I can't blame him, as Henry himself shouldn't have inherited his throne, his late older brother Arthur should have been the one to claim and live out the monarchy of England.

Back to the story on the hunting grounds, she had caught his eye once before at a joust, though they had never become acquainted. Henry, who was proclaiming to his close advisors at court; my uncle among them at one point in time as well as Thomas Cromwell; that Catherine – his queen of nearly 24 years – was destroying his manhood. He was obviously getting distraught with bad fortune after the second miscarriage, and he was seeking a sort of get-away, and to him, Mary was just the sort. Unfortunately, she didn't make it particularly interesting or out of the blue for him, as once she had given birth to not only one, but two children of his; and given higher status to many of the members of the family – all but her, in that sense. Anne learned from that. Even while Mary was recovering from the birth of Henry, whom had a devastating impact on her poor health, she was already catching flirtations with the high Tudor. How was I brought into the ploy? I was made out to be the in between, the boy that sent messengers from the farm house that Mary was to stay in over the midsummer, and the castle where Anne now ruled. There was a born rivalry between my two sisters, and despite being pulled and tugged on either of their sides, I managed the in between – having decidedly stuck by both my sisters in times of stress. From the first time that Henry had determined Anne's marriage to her beloved Henry Percy to be invalid, and had grown sick and weary beyond belief, to the time that Mary's first betrothed William Carey had passed of the sweat.

What about my life in the court of Henry the Eighth of the name to rest on the throne, outside of the tennis courts and king's great jousts? By the year 1535, I was approximately in my second year of marriage with the hideous Jane Parker, whom I was assigned as being the Boleyn heir to marry another of my class. Unfortunately for me, it wasn't only me that grew distaste to her; she was under allusion that she held charm, though really; with me, she came nowhere close of the fancy most women are to their husbands or even their betrothed. Ugly, spiteful, and jealous as she was, she seemed to lurk and pry in the depth of the castle where he were to stay when at court. I was once lounging and laying with my dear sister who was recovering from the birth of Henry Carey, my nephew who at one time I thought was to become heir, and she came lurking in only to later gossip to a few of the maids that we had too much of a closer relationship than siblings ought to. She is the one who brought up the false incestuous charges against me in this trail of recent, and I daresay, she ought to be the one condemned to the scaffold. I know it is a sin that I am committing when even thinking, not just confessing as such, but a man who has grown such a distaste for his wife; even Henry the 8th could see why I held such accusations of horridness and spitefulness against her. Eventually, I turned my attraction towards another opposing fellow in the court, a Francis Weston. It was only something serious when we would play matches with rum, and secretly sneak out to the piers to fish for whatever we may find like silly boys in the neighboring forest. A couple of times we would discuss the hideousness in our own betrotheds and one thing got to another, and we exchanged an immoral embrace. I apologize for my sins, Jesus, and they shall not be held against me after thus. Francis was in favor of the King, I never would have suspected that his eye would have grown as wary to him as a master to a pig. My downfall, as well as Anne's, would be made up from some of the lies and odd circumstances that shrouded our lives in the court. It was something that ought to have never been recorded, these sins and accusations; these are things after all that many people get away with outside of the court, regardless of their belief systems and their preferences for reform or Catholicism. If he's such a great king that could win many victories over opposing nations, and work out so many treaties, then why does he struggle so on a matter of forgiving nature on his own once companions?


	3. Chapter 3: Anne's Side

The Boleyn Misfortunes: Retold in First Person

The Boleyn Misfortunes: Retold in First Person. Pt. 3

Anne Boleyn:

"My trial has done me no but no slight justice. My uncle was nearly in tears by the end of it, knowing that if proclaimed my innocence his reputation and career would be rid of, and yet if he dismissed himself from the court it would be worse yet still. So he went along with the others, including my first and only true love, Henry Percy; that claimed that I was guilty. That I am forever guilty of adultery with not one, but several, very good and true men; not to mention attempting and using witchcraft and murder to make everything turn out in favor. They also say that along with the others, though my brother has yet to be tried as he is still a Lord in his own right, I am to be beheaded or burned – God that would be the most terrible way to die! I am desperate to plead only for that slightest of mercy and that my death will be of the slightest plight.

Funny, I am near positive I won't mind the actual death that I have been sentenced to, it will come as to a relief. In the past few months, Henry has avoided me constantly, and said but nothing to me about what was going on. He has become eerily suspicious, and my brother and I soon realized with the intelligence of many other observers that he had replaced yet another queen. Only this time, it was not Katherine being replaced by my own desirous self, it was me being replaced. And by that Jane I met was a much uglier, thin and scrawny little thing, a Seymour nonetheless – a rival, ha, not much of one! – the fact that _she _was his new interest nearly got me into much more of a fury than what I unleashed. I was positive, or so I thought, that I could easily undermine her. I was wrong. But don't you have it, I promise, I promise you that God's wrath will be unleashed on her when she will die giving Henry that son he's always wanted. Yes. My Elizabeth will prevail among any of the weak sons that she could produce, or any God given male heir.

I'm more depressed on how these others have gotten convicted and tried, pleading for my innocence, and yet are going to get executed. My dear brother George, Mark Smeaton my lute player – only a lad! - , Francis Weston, the list goes on and on of nearly five or six false accusations. And they say, they say I'm a witch! There are other rumors too that fit along with that ridiculous notion Henry's using to rid of me for that Jane Seymour slut, too. It gets worse. One has said that I have a sixth finger, hidden inside the lace of my shawl during the daylight, and viewable during the evenings when I'm in my bedchamber. Only the likes of George's hideous wife could have thought of such a horrible and nasty rumor, the likes of a whorehouse one. I want that to be known, that none of those rumors are anything but insanely untrue, and that I am justified to pronounce them as such having lived my life as I have been instructed and done nothing less. My Uncle and my father's ambition, not mine being a mere and weak woman, were responsible for the shameful near murder of Bishop Fisher when he was nearly killed of poison. People blame me also for the downfall of Cardinal Wolsey, well, ha! That part might be true, as he was a nasty piece of work that did nothing good but part ways with the Pope for Henry. He did nothing good when he separated Henry Percy and I, and should have known that my fury and wrath would always linger with him from that day on. But I did not murder him, it was his age and his fat belly full of greed and wealth that killed him not I.

So as you see, I am but less guilty than any of the charges against me supply, and they have been fabricated with Henry Tudor's honor….HA. What honor has he? Has he nothing less or more than the lies and indulgence of an emotionless and physically ugly tyrant, perhaps? Yes and no. At one time, when he was the golden prince across England, not so desperate to prove his masculinity with a male heir or so desperate to impress his rival in King Francis of France my sister's one time lover, I do recognize him as, a rather naughty and nasty sort of fellow, and he found an easy one in my sister. At one time, I was the golden apple to his eye, I was the Venus to his Mars while Katherine the former queen was discarded and yes, a better lady than I and thrown into a life abandoned from any family, including her daughter, personal to her. Yes, I was the reason and person that pushed him into doing those terrible deeds, I do confess, but that was out of jealousy and ambition, not a greater sin than some of those in which he has committed in past and present days.

We all know the reason why he is going beyond all necessary or needed measures to discard me, divorce me, and execute me even now. It's because there is no other way he could wipe off any trace of my existence, so he can replace me with that pathetic and boastfully virgin Seymour girl. She is no innocent young deity, as Henry seems to think her as, she is but a replicate and much uglier version of myself.

Why, my brother was not but joking but serious when he mentioned and made fun of the king's impotence! It's true, the eighth of that namesake of England is nothing but an impotent fellow that failed to produce a male heir on each of his wives so far!

Why is it that Henry has no sense or justification of mercy as he used to, as he did early on, when he was the prince and jewel of the court and Katherine the queen? Why is it that he could not listen to even his youngest daughter's pleas for the keeping and safeguard of a mother? Even if she was sent to a nunnery, it would be better than being a bastard, and as close as you could come to an outcast, or an orphan. Henry can destroy my family, he can destroy the Boleyn and Howard ambitions and ruin them for good, he can throw me on a stake and burn me like the witch I am not; he can desperately search for a way to prove that I never existed. However, he is wrong. I, Anne, the greatest and most memorable – notorious, for sins I did not commit, - and short-lived queen of England to date; will be looked on forever in history and that is something that Henry cannot erase.

"


End file.
